The Nurturer
by Molpadia
Summary: After defeating the Dark Lord, Harry became famous.This time there's a whole new bad guy,and Harry Potter has a whole new way to kick his arse! Creature Fic: Nymph/Others Mpreg, SS/HP and others
1. Table of ContentsGlossary

**TABLE OF CONTENTS**

Prologue

Chapter One: What You Don't Know

Chapter Two: Can't Hurt You

Chapter Three: Backlash of Ignorance(In progress…)

Chapter Four: Coming soon…

Chapter Five: N/A

**! Warning !**

This is a homo-romantic Fanfiction.

Rated M: for mature content, child neglect, and explicit behavior.

**Disclaimer**

I Teigh, hereby disclaim any and all content in this story pertaining to the Harry Potter novels written by J.K. Rowling, and I also disclaim any references to Piers Anthony's Xanth novel "Faun and Games."

**Dedication**

This is dedicated to all creature Fanfiction readers out there, and also dedicated to my wonderful sister who is not a sister, Beta: Romy Noodle.

**GLOSSARY**

This Glossary will be updated as chapters are added.

**Centaur- **An equine creature that has the up half of its body as a man, and the lower half horse. Usually depicted with a snubbed nose and pointed ears.

**Nymph- **A beautiful creature, more commonly female that inhabit various types of earth. Ex: woods, trees, mountains, rivers, seas, meadows, flowers, ECT.

**Satyr-** A half man half goat and in some cases half jackass. They usually represent fertility and often they mate with Nymphs but in order to do so they much catch one first. It's basically a game of tag and you get sexed.

**Clawdios- **The elder of the centaurs. Older than the time of humans.

**Artemisia Lovegood- **Most I can reveal at this moment is that yes this is a real Lovegood. Rest of it is N/A till later chapters.

**Albus Dumbledore- **A glamour persona created by Salazar's sister Atra. The "headmaster" of Hogwarts Wizarding school.

**Atra Slytherin- **Sister of Salazar, she disinherited the Slytherin name, she is your bad guy in this story.


	2. Prologue

"The Nurturer"

By: Amanda M. Bolt

"_Prologue"_

Somewhere in history, deep in a forest whose name has been lost to time, a prophecy came to be. A fortune that no human ear has heard, no book or manuscript has recorded. A secret that would be kept amongst the trees and the creatures that lived there until the time should come when the one in the prophecy would take their rightful place.

oOo

_A long time ago…_

It was a small home, but this home held many. The forest had helped them to survive; they had found a way to provide for themselves. Driven into the forest by humans and their wars, the equine beings grew to understand their new home in a way that the humans did could not. They listened to the stars speak without words; they foretold the comings and goings of man. They were able to keep their forest with the help of their new allies of the forest. Soon they became secluded beings, keeping away from the humans that would harm them and their young. Humans sought them out less and less as the years wore on, too distracted with their wars and magic to poach the "half breeds" for potions and for entertainment of the physical kind. The Forsaken ones, Muggles as the Gifted Ones called the "Non-magical" humans, sought them out in fear of their physical differences, as the years past the next generation began thinking that the beings were either extinct or a figment of their parent's minds. Soon they became a myth of fantastical wonder to the Forsaken humans. To the Gifted Ones, they became a bed time nightmare where they steal away children and chew on their flesh.

Clawdios was the elder of the centaurs. He was the oldest and had lived since before the time of humans, keeping them all safe through his sight and knowledge. This was the being that was currently telling the young foals' stories of their allies: the satyrs, ents, and nymphs; and how they were killed by some of the humans in their quest for more dominance, more power, more magic; and taken away by the humans.

"—and then the humans came to ravage the satyr's and nymph's land, now our home. They killed the males and stole away the nymphs," the old man gestured with his hands to the surrounding trees.

A young foal, queer and curious, questioned his elder, "But Elder Clawdios, what about the Ent's? Why did they not come to help the satyrs and nymphs?"

The elder chuckled at the youth "Firenze, the trees lack friendship with time. They speak long and move slow. Help is in their nature, yes, but beyond their abilities during the attack."

Firenze was about to ask another question when the air in the forest shifted around his elder. Clawdios had noticed the change as well but was unprepared for the vision that clouded over his eyes and used his voice as a messenger. Firenze looked on with fear, and awe for this was the first vision the elder had been gifted since the humans came to their forest.

Voice raspy with stress of holding a tone that did not belong to him, the elder stood and with arms open wide to the sky and power glowing in his eyes. Clawdios spoke the message sent by the stars.

_The great tree will be felled and uprooted_

_Taken by the one who will cage them_

_Great tree will fall by forced loves betrayal_

_Taken by the one who had cut them_

_Earthen mounds will take all else to sup _

_And the soil will dry and rivers will parch_

_Until the dawn of the Seed_

_He who is born of great leaves will rise_

_Returned to the highest chair_

_From earthen mounds will all return _

_And the Seed will have three gifts_

_A gift to save its other soul_

_A gift to take back the blood they stole_

_A gift to open equal sight_

_The Nurturer comes to restore_

_The Forest Old_

The power eased out of the Elder's body and Clawdios slumped onto the ground. This message took too much power out of him and he would need to rest long to recover. Firenze and the other foals sat staring at the space where their Elder once stood. Shock was written clearly across the young ones faces as they tried to comprehend the meaning of the words spoken. Firenze was the only one to understand, and he would be only one to believe when the one spoken of came. Though he did not know it at the time, this young foal would soon play a very important role in the coming years.

oOo

_Many life times later… _

The day had finally come; the heir to the forest was to come of age. The creatures stirred from their sleep and nightly activities as they felt the power of the forest awaken once again. It was the ending of an old era and the beginning of a new one. Silence captured the forest leaving it still in its anticipation. It was a beautiful day indeed.


	3. What You Don't Know

"The Nurturer"

By: Amanda M. Bolt

NOTE TO READERS: If you would like to continue reading this story, I feel I must inform you of a policy I have. I will only post the next chapter of a story if there have been three decent reviews. You are warned.

_Chapter One_

"_What You Don't Know"_

To a teenage boy, who was deceptively petite for his age, his size diminished from years of neglect, it was not a beautiful day. In fact, it was a stormy, miserable day and anyone who would tell him otherwise would more than likely receive a glare in return for their optimism. That is if they actually took the time to let him out of his padlocked room.

At first look you would think that he was merely a small boy who wore raggedy clothes and never brushed his wild midnight hair. But then nothing is ever what it seems, and looks can be very deceiving. The face of an androgynous angel, but with soft bruised skin, would lead you to believe that he was delicate and not very tough. Then when you looked at his posture you would notice the defiant stance that showed you a determined boy who would take action if it was called for. Clear wide eyes gave one the impression of innocence that could never be taken away, but the intelligence you could see there as well, might convince you otherwise. His eyes were framed with old thick glasses that were scratched and broken, tape holding them on the bridge of his nose, but that wasn't the most outstanding thing about him. What was special about this boy, that separated him from all the rest, was a scar on his forehead in the simple shape of a zigzagged line.

Said boy huffed for what seemed to him the millionth time that evening as he laid on his bed picking at the sheets in a bored manner. Staring through his barred window at the sunset he recalled the peculiar reason for his current disposition. As far as he could tell he hadn't done anything at all, as was usual. He tried to recollect what instigated his punishment in the first place.

_I guess it all started when that letter arrived,_ His eyes glazed over, lost in memory of what had taken place. It happened around dinner time, when everyone was finishing their meals…

More likely his relatives were finishing their own meals; he was merely watching them gorge themselves. He wondered if they would sink if dropped in an ocean somewhere. He looked at his Aunt Petunia; she was the only one who wouldn't sink. Though, a sailor might mistake her for a plank of shipwreck wood or something. She was a tall stick like woman who looked as if she had been pressed and ironed. A sharp pointed nose allowed her to snoop on the neighbors like the gossip monger she was. It was a talent the boy knew she possessed. Her lips were always set in a thin line as if she were forbidding herself from telling the secrets that she had found.

A slurping sound came from across the table where a fat, sandy haired boy was seated doing a wonderful impression of a starving hippo who hadn't seen food ever before in its entire life. Sadly, this was the boy's cousin, Dudley. He was a bully, who liked to pick on him when he got bored and his expensive toys broke. Unfortunately this led to Dudley breaking him instead. He couldn't count how many broken bones, cuts, and bruises his magic had mended. Still the boy had to think that it wasn't really his cousin's fault being so mean and spoilt. After all it was his Aunt and Uncle who stuck the silver spoon in his mouth. Petunia doted on him more than Uncle Vernon who was an older and a little less over weighted version of his son. His cousin was her special little Dudders, and the boy…Well he was just Boy to them; it was either that or Freak.

Dudley stuffed more spaghetti into his mouth, trying to inhale it all in one go. He watched as the sauce dripped down his cousin's chin and onto the plate again with disgust.

His uncle was the worst out of all of them. He was the one who put the bars on his window and the locks on his door. Who took away his school things and locked them in the space under the stairs where his room used to be. The only reason why he had an actual bedroom now was because he was a wizard and could do magic. Vernon didn't want any of his "freaky friends" to find out about how he was treated here.

Not that he had any friends left. Ever since he defeated Voldemort, a dark wizard who sought to take over the World, his friends no longer spoke to him. He hadn't noticed anything at first, how his stack of letters was shrinking, gradually becoming smaller and smaller. Until one day, they stopped coming all together. Ron had even gone as far as to write him a letter declaring the end of his friendship with Harry. It didn't even say why. Hermione's letters had just stopped coming.

So now here he was at dinner with his guardians watching them eat while his stomach was trying to gnaw through his insides. This was his family, the world would be proud.

He was jarred from his thoughts when he felt the prickle of magic on the back of his neck. There was yelling next. The clattering of silverware hitting the plates, and chairs thumping as they fell over and hit the linoleum floor echoed as his relatives struggled to move their wale like bodies away from the table.

"Get that ruddy damn thing off of our table Boy!" His Uncle spat at him, pointing a thick meaty finger at the table, a vein on his neck throbbing in anger.

The teen looked at the table and there sat, in the middle of all the dishes and silver eating utensils, a cream colored envelope.

"Well! Don't just stare at it Freak! Get it off my polished oak table before it ruins the finish!" The nasal like voice of his aunt shrilled.

Harry continued to block out the voices of his relatives as he examined the letter more closely. On the front was his name in curly, winding, black letters. With further inspection, he noticed the golden seal of Gringotts, a Wizarding bank. He picked up the letter and broke the seal. Carefully, and slowly for his skittish relatives sake, he unfolded the letter.

_**Harry James Potter heir to James W. Potter & Lily E. Potter-Evans,**_

_**(Please place a drop of your blood on the letter to verify your identity.) **_

_**Thank You.**_

Harry took one of the table knives and pricked his finger. The blood swelled up to form a crimson droplet at the very tip. He placed the letter on his lap and over it he pinches his fingers together. As soon as the blood hit the paper the previous message disappeared and new one replaced it.

_**I, Lily Ekho Potter -Evans, claim Harry James Potter as my descendant, and declare the following document valid. **_

_**Signed: **__Lily Potter -Evans_

_**Witness: **_ _Artemisia Lovegood_

The ink disappeared once again and more words were quickly taking their place.

_**To my dearest son,**_

_**Harry if you have received this letter then that means that I am dead and the time has finally come for you to become magically mature. There is something important that you need to know though, something that I hid from your father. I'm not a muggleborn, Harry; my blood is just as pure as any other pureblood wizards out there. This means that your blood is the same as mine. It is very vital that no one knows what I am about to reveal to you. It would put you in grave danger. Harry, you're a –.**_

The words sank into the paper again, but before Harry could read the next message the letter was yanked out of his grasp by his Uncle, who apparently disliked being ignored.

"Boy! I'll teach you to disrespect me!" Uncle Vernon is not happy, and an unhappy Uncle means that Harry gets –.

THWACK!

His head snapped back as Vernon's fist decided that it had a magnetic attraction to Harry's face. He could taste blood in his mouth from when he bit his tongue. While he was regaining his senses his Uncle had gripped his arm and was currently dragging Harry up the stairs. They reached the end of the hallway and were standing in front of a pristine white door with locks up and down the side and a cat flap at the bottom, his uncle shoved him into the room and with that he closed the door. The shifting of metal could be heard on the other side as Vernon locked him in.

Harry was brought back to present time when he heard a car door close and an engine start. The roar of the motor could be heard, slowly getting fainter as the distance between it and the house grew far. Harry huffed again, this time with a snort of distain.

_So they decided to run in fear, wonder how long it will be till they comeback this time. Last time something like this happened they left me here for two days. _

Harry sighed and shook his head ignoring the headache he felt coming from not getting enough food and sleep. He crawled under the thin stained sheet on his bed and drifted into a fitful sleep.

oOo

Several days have passed since the Dursley's left Privet Drive. Several days have passed since they locked Harry in his room with no food, drink nor toilet. Several days have passed, and Harry was slowly growing weaker. He no longer tried to break the door down, nor did he try to crawl through the cat flap. He didn't even scream for help anymore. Instead he just slept on his bed and tried to dream away the pain in his stomach and heart.

He always knew that they didn't love him. That he would never have any special place in their hearts, they were too sterile for that; didn't want him to taint their precious lives, but this showed him a new side of life that he never wanted to see. He thought of his so called family and cried. He knew that they disliked him, but he never thought that they hated him. How they feared him so much that they would leave him here to slowly starve to death. The world was cruel and he was living in it.

Slowly days dragged by and Harry was no longer able to move. His mind began to drift in and out of consciousness, and his thoughts became confused, mixing with reality. He could tell his magic was trying to keep him alive, but he knew it wouldn't last much longer. His magical levels were slowly depleting and he was sure that he didn't have much left, and eventually he would die. He had already resigned himself to this fate; he was too disoriented to focus on healing himself. He knew that the chances of someone finding and helping him were almost nonexistent and he also knew better than to get his hopes up.

He had done the best he could to keep his room clean. In the corner there was a large bag where he put all of his wastes and dumped them out of the barred window. He kept the bag though because that was the only one he had. He didn't wear his clothes because they no longer fit him. His hips couldn't hold his pants up any more and his underwear was too gross to wear. His skin smelled of sweat, dirt, and blood. You could smell the blood the most, loosing so much weight so quickly caused his digestive system to shut down. It hurt so much that he no longer bothered to pee anymore. He had stripped the sheets on his bed because the thin blanket was no longer just stained with Dudley's childhood accidents. Now it was stained with his pain. He couldn't bear to look at it.

Finally, if you could actually say such a thing with enthusiasm, the day came when Harry's magic gave up. He could feel it leaving his body. He would have smiled ruefully at the thought of his magic abandoning him just like everyone else, if it wasn't for the fact that his muscles no longer worked right. So all he could do was smirk inwardly and wait for the very last bit to be drained. It was almost like waiting for the very last breath of a friend or lover, something so intimate yet so painful it made you want to mourn its loss.

Harry felt it then. The very last bit of magic he had faded and the room fell into blackness. While Harry was unconscious a light began to form around his body, giving one the impression that they were seeing an aura. The light glowed scarlet red for a couple of minutes. Then slowly the halo of color began to expand and changed to a pale blue color. Magic started to seep into the room causing an impossible wind to whip around the small space, lifting the unconscious Harry from the bed to hang there. All of a sudden the aura turned to a vibrant green and it began to pulse. The room almost seemed alive, it almost seemed like it had a heart beat.

Tha Thump, Tha Thump. The pulse grew steadily louder, faster, and with every beat there was an invisible force banging against the door and window. The glass rattled and the hinges creaked as the strain put upon them continued in its goal. Then at last, as if the green aura had grown impatient, a final burst of power came and with a conclusive THUMP, the door was thrown off its hinges and into the wall across from it. The bars on the window burst outwards and in the process shattered the glass and the pieces of the window drifted to the ground below.

The heart beat grew steady again, the color changed once more to a paler green and the body of the suspended boy began to shift and change. The bones that had protruded from his frail form were now covered with decent flesh. Leaving him at the weight he was at when he arrived at the beginning of summer. His midnight hair lengthened and flowers began to blossom out of the green magic and weave themselves into his now long messy hair. His hips grew slightly wider and his skin grew fairer, giving him the impression of a girl.

The raging wind died down and Harry's body drifted back onto the bed. The powerful light receded into his body and left the room with silence. Long black lashes fluttered open to reveal ethereal green eyes clouded with confusion. A shadowed form hovered over him. The voice whispered "Sleep, A'ree." and he did.


	4. Can't Hurt You

"The Nurturer"

By: Amanda M. Bolt

_Chapter Two_

"_Can't Hurt You"_

Albus Dumbledore was a well respected man. Everyone looked up to, and depended upon him. That was the way he liked it. He was the _**true**_ icon for the supposed "Greater Good", not some little orphaned brat who played the part of the brave knight slaying the dragon. Albus was the real hero, a puppeteer, the shepherd to tend the flock and the wolf to eat them. That's the way life works, there are the kings and the pawns. And this old man was a king.

He walked down the stone corridor with a brisk pace. His archaic royal blue robes swished at his feet, collecting the dust and dirt one could usually find in the school dungeons. Stroking his long white beard in time with his steps, he sorted through the possible reasons for the Privet Drive ward failure. The shields were not in fact the blood wards that he told the boy were placed there by his mother. No, the wards were actually a simple protection ritual that only required trust between the person who was creating it and the one being shielded. The only way they could have been felled is if there was a magical backlash, and the brat's magical inheritance isn't for another month, or the trust bond was broken…

There was no way that the boy could have taken down the wards _**he**_ created. The runt was too trusting to do that. Albus smiled wickedly at that thought. His plans had worked so perfectly. He was right to keep the boy away from the Wizarding world. Albus found the perfect gullible tool for the war when the child arrived for his first year of Wizarding education at Hogwarts. All he had to do was pretend to care and show the boy a couple of magic tricks. It was so easy that it almost wasn't fun at all, and that would have been most disappointing.

The old man's smile faltered and quickly faded into a frown. He would have a hard time manipulating the little nuisance this year. He had become more defiant and less trusting of his caring Grandfather persona since his annoying Godfather died.

'_Really, the flea bitten dust rag couldn't stay when he was told to do so. How is it my fault that the mutt wasn't house trained?'_ thought the Headmaster to himself.

He finally arrived at the end of the stone passage and was now standing before a stone wall with two candle sconces, without candles on either side of the lighter rectangle area that gave away that a painting used to reside there. Albus tapped his wand against his finger and blood welled up to the surface of his skin. He wrote "open" upon the space between the sconces and next there was a shimmer where the stone wall was. Albus smiled and walked right through the illusion. He began his descent down a winding staircase, the torches on the wall becoming enflamed as he went further down into the cold, stone structure of Hogwarts.

He started to think again. What if the boy was in danger? The old man laughed out loud, the echo of his crazed humor reverberating off of the walls into the gloom of the dark stairwell. Danger indeed! Of course he was in danger, those insular Muggles would still be doing their job in making sure the boy was (his glasses glinted in the torchlight) well taken care of. His long beard swished as he shook his head at the irony of it all. Oh how he loved being in control.

He arrived at what appeared to be a dead end but after he repeated the entrance ritual, this time writing a different password, he walked through the wall and into a semi-cozy room. Looking around the old man made sure everything was as he left it. There were tapestries depicting renaissance wars and creatures that mankind hasn't seen in many years. The images fled the room, in fear of the old man, to another tapestry that Albus has yet to find. There was no need to worry about them divulging his secrets though. He had made sure that there were no others within the castle for them to move around on. After all, a cloth picture can only move onto another cloth picture.

There was a single winged back chair, on an old woven carpet, diagonally in front of a huge hearth decorated with various curious objects and baubles. To the left the entire wall was covered with shelves upon shelves of undusted books, each of them probably worth a small fortune. On the other side of the room in front, and facing the hearth sat a beautiful stone desk with runes written along the edges in what appeared to be unicorn blood.

Dumbledore looked up at the portrait behind the well chosen desk and greeted the person painted in it. "Why hello dear brother, imagine seeing you here?" He said with sarcastic ease while running his spotted and wrinkled fingers along the spines of the books, searching for one that he might find interesting.

"I am not thy brother any longer Atra, I banished thy name from our family!" The painting coldly pointed out once again.

"Your right of course, you're not my brother anymore. Why would a Slytherin take care of his own blood? So Salazar, my dearest ex-brother, how does it feel to know that I am the one that ruined our houses reputation?" Albus never once turned and looked at the portrait; he just plucked a promising leather bound book from the shelf and sat down upon the green winged back chair, one leg crossed over the other in a show of apathy.

"Thy time will come ex-sister, and when thy last breath lingers, the Slytherin name will be restored." The man in the painting hissed at the man sitting in what was once the founder's favorite chair.

Albus waved his wand around and the glamour he wore disappeared leaving a young looking woman with long white hair and dark brown eyes that almost appeared black in his place. The new Albus smiled to herself, "How does it feel then, to know that I killed your only other heir Salazar?" She closed her eyes and leaned back in the chair to savor the reaction she was sure to get from her dear brother.

There was an intake of breath, then silence before, "You didst kill thy own blood Atra?" the man whispered. "How, why?"

"Because old man," Atra raised a sharp pallid eyebrow and turned to look at the man in the portrait for the first time, "I can." The woman's lips twitched at her own comment.

Salazar's face was priceless. He looked as if he would give anything to be alive now and throttle the woman who dared to call herself a Slytherin. The founder did his best to keep his temper in control lest he melt his paint. While Salazar was struggling Atra decided to stoke the fire, figuratively speaking of course.

"Actually, there were many reasons why; most of them the typical answers one would expect from an abandoned child. I was jealous, I wanted attention, so on and so forth. But I believe the main reason was power. He had too much power. More power than me, in fact, and that just wouldn't do. Besides he could have jeopardized my plans." She elaborated as if it was a perfectly reasonable thing to do, to kill someone because they got in the way of her plans. Removing the glasses from her face, she folded them and placed them on the small table beside the chair she was still sitting in.

"As to how, I am a very intricate planner and I created a weapon far greater than any spell, potion, or ritual. I created Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived."

oOo

_**Defeat of Voldemort…**_

Atra sat behind the headmasters' desk with an undetectable impatience. Glamour in place and the ever present, yet sickening smile of her "Albus Dumbledore" façade was waiting for Harry Potter to arrive. Her summons had been perfectly laid out. The note was basic enough to make it seem like it was not overtly important (such as someone dying) but rather gave the impression of a "tea time" get together. A knock sounded at the door and opened quickly to her mental command. With sparkling eyes she beckoned the young man into the room.

"Well hello dear boy, I'm glad to see you are well. I assume your classes are in order?" She cheerfully waved him to a plush chair in front of the desk while offering him a lemon drop and tea. It's a wonderful thing to have voice altering potions; otherwise this whole scheme would not have worked.

The boy looked at his Headmaster desk timidly. "Yes, my classes are fine." Harry declined the candy and refreshments as he sat in the chair indicated to him and in nervous habit began to pick at his nails.

After a long silence where both occupants of the office just sat there waiting for the other to speak first, Harry finally got tired of the awkward atmosphere.

"Sir, was there something you wanted to tell me?" Harry lifted his head to look at Fawkes in the corner. While studying the boy, Atra, as Albus Dumbledore responded with a smile.

"Yes actually, I would like you to start training for the war Harry. You know what the prophecy says and I feel that Voldemort is slowly creeping up on us from behind. You must be prepared. I'm sure you understand the importance of all this."

Never lifting his head to meet the Headmasters eyes Harry agreed subserviently. Which suited Atra's plans perfectly. She was afraid that she would have to coax the brat into training, and that would have taken more time and effort than she really wanted to waste on the little irritant.

"Well, that's settled then you will begin tomorrow. I'm sorry my boy but it's almost curfew and I wouldn't want you to get caught by our resident potions master. He was in a rather foul mood today." She waved her hand at the door and it opened. After Harry was gone she relaxed back into her chair.

'_Everything is going according to the plan. By the end of the year Voldemort will be eliminated and I can move onto the next part.' _Smiling inwardly she chuckled out loud, gradually becoming louder and louder. The sound of her manic laughter faded as the door to her chambers closed for the night.

oOo

A few weeks later found Hogwarts under siege, with Harry Potter missing in action. Harry was actually missing nothing as the attack began in the Chamber of Secrets where the Death Eaters gained entrance through a hidden back door in the Forbidden Forest. While the Death Eaters had gone up to the main level, the Dark Lord remained to extract revenge on the one who had killed him. Harry fought hard and long. Soon the large columns around the entrance began to crumble under the impact of so many magical bursts. As the first column began to fall and Voldemort looked up at the collapsing Chamber, Harry pushed Voldemort under the pillar. In slow motion Harry watched as the pillar fell onto the Lord of Evil.

The sound of someone shouting could be heard as Harry was knocked backwards by a slab of stone. His head made hard impact with the stone floor and the last thing Harry saw before his vision clouded over was his Headmaster glinting at him as he held the Chamber together with a command to Hogwarts "to return to as it was."

Voldemort was destroyed and that was the day that Harry Potter fulfilled his duty to the Wizarding World.

oOo

Salazar Slytherin knew that the prophecy was a farse. Atra, ever the clever girl, was well acquainted with semantics and was almost flawless with her poetical creation. There was one little, tiny problem with her masterpiece though, and that was the fact that there is only one prophecy per person. So that could only lead the founder to wonder at what the boy's real prophecy was. The poor child had no idea either. Salazar became angry at that thought and his painting grew darker.

"If I couldst Atra, I would reveal thy evil deeds to the boy." Salazar growled through his teeth.

Atra came out of her thoughts at this declaration and after a panicked jolt to her heart, the dark brown eyes began to glitter with malice and her lips quirked up to form an unpleasant smile across her face.

"If, my dear brother, you could. But you can't, now can you?"

She had cast a ritual on the painting to make sure that nothing of her plans could be revealed. Actually she didn't have to worry about any of the four Founders of Hogwarts. She expanded the ritual to all of the painting though Salazar's since she still had yet to find the others.

'_They must be located somewhere else'_ She reminded herself once again. The missing portraits had her on edge for quite some time now, and she had no idea why that made her so bothered.

'_Speaking of rituals I must find out what happened to the wards on Privet Drive.'_ Atra's thoughts returned back to where she started as she walked out of the study to return to the dungeons once more. She wasn't going to go see what was going on herself, that would mean that she would have to put her other plans aside (not that she had any plans) and she wasn't about to do that. So she would have to send someone else to the see if everything was alright, but who…Minerva left for some sort of vacation and everyone else always goes home for the summer.

The only other person still at Hogwarts was Severus Snape.

'_But the boy and he don't get along, thanks to me of course. I couldn't let the boy get a big head and start thinking for himself. Still Severus is the only one here to do the job.'_

With a sigh Atra sent a note to Severus to check on the wards around Privet Drive. Hopefully her tool was still alive.

Reader,

Sorry for the delay, there was a glitch with the antagonist. I fixed that, all knew original bad guy. Don't forget to review please…

~Teigh~


End file.
